Letters from Dell
A Lesson from a Two-Year-Old
If you've ever spent a day with a
toddler, you've probably had a similar experience - but did you thank God for
the lesson from the wee one? This is another humorous look at how God
encourages us to grow.
If I could be as consumed with a never ending devotion to God as my preschooler
is to making me look foolish, I could single handedly, turn this world around
for Christ.
My husband, who is a minister, was invited to preach at a church one Sunday morning. On the surface, that would hardly seem like something to write about, because he spoke at a lot of churches before he became a pastor. I hadn't accompanied him in several months because I have a two year old who has a problem with Habakkuk 2:20 ("The Lord is in His holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before Him.") My son fails to see himself as part of "all the earth". Since this church had a nursery, how could I go wrong? I should have stayed home, gone shopping, left the country, anything but gone with my husband.
I put on one of my favorite outfits. My hair was looking just right. I even had on heels. My favorite earrings adorned my lobes. I looked and felt so great with my new made up face. My confidence soared. For once I was going to look like the dignified wife of the guest preacher rather than the usual frazzled mother of three boys, one of which is a two year old. What was wrong with my brain that day?! What sinister spirit possessed me and caused me to muse on the notion that I might in some small way be able to actually hear the entire sermon? How propounderous, prideful, and presumptuous of me to think I could sit through the service without having to redirect my train of thought to some goofy matter.
I took my son to the nursery where he began to play and ignore me. Trust me, my feelings were not hurt. My two older boys and I Sat up front while my husband took his usual spot in the pulpit. As the service progressed, I honestly believed this was going to be a great day, but after a while, we heard this blood curdling screaming. It sounded like my son, but I knew it couldn't be because he was in the nursery and he loves the nursery, besides, the nursery is at the opposite end of the church through some double doors and around the corner. How could it possibly be my son that I'm hearing? Eventually, the ministers in the pulpit started looking around and the choir behind them as well. My husband told me to go check. I gave a sigh and figured that was the end of me sitting around looking all cute and dignified. Little did I know that the "fun" was just beginning. When I got back to the nursery, there was a crowd of people standing outside the doors staring at something. I peeped through the crowd and sure enough, there was my son screaming at the top of his lungs. He was promptly removed from the nursery. You'll never guess why he was carrying on like a stuck pig. The lady in the nursery told all the little children it was time to take a nap. My son didn't want to take a nap. So now what do I do with this kid? I decided to go back in to the sanctuary and sit in the back near the exit since I'd more than likely have to leave soon. I sat my son on the seat next to me, then he got up. I sat him back down and he got up again. We went through this up and down business about four or five times and then it happened. He got up and took off running down the aisle toward the pulpit. We were still in service. This was Sunday morning worship service and we turned it into a three ring circus! My son ran down the aisle, and I, in my high heels, and scarf flowing like Superman's cape, flew down the aisle after him. My middle son ran after both of us, bringing up the rear. It was truly a sight to behold. The only thing I kept thinking: "We're in service ... we're in the middle of a church service." I could see my two year old laughing as he ran, and people poking their heads out of the pews to see what was the commotion. Rest assured, by the time he made it to the front, the last spec of self-worth I thought I had, was about to be snatched by this "nightmare on two legs". He got up to the front and he tripped and fell. I was so relieved because I figured I could catch him while he was trying to get up. NOT!!! HE did one of those toddler roll over stunts and started crawling across the front. I reached down in my heels, trying not to topple over -- I missed him again! My middle son caught up to us and grabbled him by his belt buckle. As my two year old turned to start his usual fighting with his brother, I grabbed his leg. I dragged him back to the side aisle and scooped him up by his leg and arm and hauled him the rest of the way out of the sanctuary with the middle child trailing behind me.
My husband and oldest son sat in their respective places, quietly and in utter amazement at the whole spectacle. I was so embarrassed. I took my "precious one" outside and I began to pace, clutching him tighter with every step. I was too upset to reprimand him, so I did the next best thing. I sat down and cried. My middle son asked my why I was crying. I couldn't even answer him. How could I explain to him that I was crying because his baby brother made me look like an idiot?
I discovered later that my husband and
the Pastor weren't too concerned over the matter, fortunately. I can't
help but laugh every time I think about the three of us racing down the aisle
and my scarf exemplifying "truth, justice, and the American way."
That church will never forget us!
So, what did I learn from all of this? I should be as passionate about my
walk with God as my son is about trying to make me crazy. I try to give
him the benefit of the doubt and assume he doesn't lie awake nights plotting and
planning the most effective way to irk Mommy. Then again, I can't conceive of
him coming up with such fool proof plans on the spur of the moment. My
baby seems to be under the impression that his purpose in life is to cause havoc
wherever his little feet may roam. I need to be just as bent on teaching him
that his real purpose is to glorify God.
As a parent, there so much I want for my children. I want them to be joyful and contented. I want them to be well educated. I want them to be prosperous and have a good life. If there was only one thing I could ask of my Father on their behalf, it would be that they have a personal relationship with Him. I want my babies to know Jesus and have a faith in God that is unshakable. As determined as my youngest son is on having his way, I must be just as determined, and even moreso, to let God have His way.
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